It is in
These early dawn
Hours when asleep
You all are
That I find
My greatest peace
You still sleeping
Yet I am
Now dreaming these
Delicate petit fours
Sweet and savory
Morsels of memory
That tickle and
Hang and dissolve
And disappear into
Another and another
These waves coming
Ashore bringing with
Them trinkets of
By gone times
That I collect
Like a child
On Coney Island
Wondering where they
Started then remembering
It was there
Of course way
Way out there
And reaching out
To the horizon
I pinch that
Thin line between
Sea and sky
Gone they go
Replaced now by
Your sleepy eyes
Looking at me